


In Your White Voluptuousness My Desire Rests

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: She wants to take Andrea to the highest heights and then push her off the cliff. She wants to shatter her and then assemble the pieces back together. She wants to be the best thing that's ever happened to Andrea, because Andrea is the best thing that's ever happened to her.





	In Your White Voluptuousness My Desire Rests

\---

 _"My ingenious fingers wait when they have found_  
_The petal flesh beneath the robe they part._  
_How curious, complex, the touch, this subtle art--_  
_As the dream of fragrance, the miracle of sound."_

\---

When Miranda wakes up, there is a lump next to her that definitely wasn't there when she fell asleep.

The hair is the only thing peeking out of the blanket--dark and messy, splayed out all over the pillow, glowing ethereally in the early morning light that seeps in through the curtains--and Miranda is reminded of the cold December air and burrows further into the covers as well.

Scooting closer, she wraps an arm around Andrea's waist and presses the front of her body to her back. Then she sighs because Andrea radiates warmth that spreads throughout her own body. And she smells so good; like vanilla and lavender and something uniquely Andrea.

Usually Andrea is the first to wake up, and by the time Miranda's alarm goes off, she's ready to leave. Journalists.

But last night, Andrea was out late, following a lead, and Miranda supposes the story panned out and has been sent to Andrea's editor, otherwise she might still have been out. Or awake, at the very least, and working frantically on her brand new _MacBook_ , courtesy of Miranda.

As it is, she's currently slumbering in Miranda's arms, probably taking half of the morning off. Good. Miranda is glad. She didn't even hear her come in, but, no doubt, it was very late.

She deserves to sleep in and Miranda won't wake her. Or so she tells herself until Andrea rubs up against her unconsciously and emits a quiet sigh, causing a tingle that starts at Miranda's neck and ends at her toes and, really, what else is Miranda supposed to do?

She runs her hand up Andrea's stomach until she reaches a supple breast, feeling the nipple against her palm. She squeezes and Andrea shifts against the pillow. Then she removes her hand, but only to slide it underneath Andrea's oversized T-shirt and massage it in earnest, skin against skin.

When Andrea lets out another sigh that borders on a groan, Miranda adds her mouth to the assault and peppers the back of her neck with licks and kisses that raise goosebums on Andrea's skin even in her sleep. Excellent.

She pinches the nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gently twists and flicks until the bud is engorged and hard. She enjoys the responses Andrea's body gives in return: the shivers and slight jerks and the occasional, involuntary whimper.

She wonders how far she can go before Andrea wakes up and decides that the best way to determine that is by putting it to the test.

When she runs her hand back down Andrea's stomach, ever so softly, Andrea's abdominal muscles sink and clench underneath her touch, but she sleeps on. And when she settles between her legs, she hums against Andrea's neck.

No pants. Good.

Lacy panties. Very good.

She knows Andrea prefers "comfortable underwear," whatever that means, and whenever the subject comes up, her partner argues that those are better for your nether regions. But Miranda is also aware of the thrill Andrea gets whenever she gifts her sexy lingerie.

Oh, she gives her a lot of things: clothes, accessories, beauty products, even if Andrea usually frowns upon expensive gifts. But there is something incedibly intimate about bestowing upon a lover a gift that only the two of them will ever see; that clings to her most private and cherished parts and that Miranda can take off with her teeth.

And Andrea feels the same way, which is why Miranda often gets private, elaborate shows.

A surge of heat courses through Miranda's body at the notion that perhaps Andrea deliberately wore these panties for bed. From touching alone, she can tell it's the black _La Perla_ she got her a few weeks ago--with the soft, floral embroidery and the satin bow at the front. Definitely not comfortable for sleep. Was Andrea expecting this kind of wake-up call?

With a newfound bout of energy, Miranda scratches the top of the panties before venturing further downward and cupping with her full palm.

Andrea is even warmer down here. She wonders how long it will take her to get wet in her sleep, then starts rubbing because finding out is way better than wondering.

She starts off slowly, just a gentle touch with the tips of her fingers on top of the thin fabric to build Andrea up. Then Andrea stirs and she presses a little harder and starts rubbing in persistent circles around her clit, just the way she likes, while nipping on an earlobe.

Andrea stirs again, and this time her breathing changes. It becomes more shallow and labored and Miranda knows it's time to up her game. Her next nip to Andrea's earlobe is sharper, but she promply soothes it with her tongue before whispering directly into her ear, "Good morning."

"Shh, I'm having a wonderful dream," Andrea murmurs, her voice hoarse with sleep. Miranda can make out the contented smile on her face and decides to take things to the next level.

Slipping her hand underneath the panties' waistband, she runs her fingers through the triangle of trimmed curls, then moves lower, where, sure enough, Andrea is getting wet. _And she's not even entirely awake yet,_ Miranda thinks and praises herself. She considers this a win.

Her fingers play around Andrea's opening, where moisture continues to form with her ministrations, and she collects it and smears it all over the surface. When her fingers make direct contact with her clit, Andrea jerks.

"Mmm," she groans into the pillow.

"Good?" Miranda whispers against her neck and places a kiss behind her ear.

"Mhm." Andrea nods and pushes slightly, trying to get more friction. But Miranda wants to take things slowly. So slowly. She wants to take Andrea to the highest heights and then push her off the cliff. She wants to shatter her and then assemble the pieces back together. She wants to be the best thing that's ever happened to Andrea, because Andrea is the best thing that's ever happened to her.

With that in mind, she releases her clit--eliciting a disapproving whimper from Andrea--and moves back down to her entrance, where more liquid has pooled between the lips. She hums her appreciation and presses with the lightest touch, not going in, just tickling around the edges. Andrea squirms.

She wants her to go inside, Miranda knows. But not yet. She's just getting started. Don't worry, though, she wants to tell Andrea. She is going to make her feel so, so good.

She says those words with her lips, kissing her way from Andrea's jaw to where her neck meets her shoulder and biting. Andrea gasps.

"What do you want?" Miranda asks, delighted with the husky tone her voice takes on.

"Want you to fuck me," Andrea mutters. She already knows this game; knows exactly what Miranda wants to hear. She tries to turn her head, but Miranda's own head stops her. She pushes her body more firmly against Andrea's, her own pussy tingling at the profanity.

Miranda usually doesn't care for swearing. She finds it barbaric and unnecessary when she can convey her disdain so flawlessly with a single look that makes people sick with fear. But here, in the sanctuary of her bed with Andrea, looks and class take a backseat to Andrea begging her to make her feel good.

On second thought, fuck slow.

"Oh, Andrea," she sighs, and pulls her fingers out of her panties. They'll just restrain her and this angle is inconvenient anyway.

Andrea groans at the loss of contact, but soon her mouth is otherwise occupied as Miranda's damp fingers run across her lower lip before slipping inside. Andrea sucks them eagerly, her tongue running up and down and around and in-between.

"Good girl," Miranda praises breathlessly.

As though reading her mind, Andrea reaches down and pushes the panties down as far as she can reach, wriggling out of them the rest of the way, and Miranda can't stop herself anymore.

Her fingers leave Andrea's mouth just in time for her to pant as Miranda bends one naked leg and turns her to lie half on her stomach and half on her side. This new position also allows her to angle herself more comfortably, freeing her left arm to stroke Andrea's hair while her fingers return to the moisture between her legs.

"Yes," Andrea hisses as two fingers breach her, but then Miranda stalls, just the tips inside those warm, velvety walls. Andrea tries to rock against her, to draw more of the digits inside, but Miranda tugs gently on her hair.

"Patience," she murmurs.

"Please," Andrea breathes.

This is torture, she knows, waking Andrea up just to tease her, but she'll make it worth her while. And she has no doubt that Andrea will retaliate later on. She's looking forward to that.

From this angle, she can't reach Andrea's clit, but it's just as well because she wants to draw this out, make Andrea beg for it. That is something she loves to do, loves the power she has over Andrea in those moments. Loves rendering her helpless and pliant with need.

She pushes her fingers just the tiniest bit further and can feel the shudder that goes through Andrea's body. She has never been with a lover as responsive as Andrea and it's such a delightful experience. Seeing how she affects this girl turns her on almost as much as Andrea's tongue between her legs.

"Ugh, Miranda, don't tease," Andrea groans and it sounds like the words are coming out through ground teeth. Miranda licks the outside of her ear.

"Say, 'please.'" All this taunting will cost her, but it's worth it just to see Andrea tremble and grasp her pillow in a death grip.

Her fingers inch further inside and Andrea's "please" comes out on a gasp.

"'Please,' what?" Just a _little_ deeper.

Andrea moans brokenly. "Please fuck me. Please, please. Fuck me hard."

And then Miranda's fingers are sheathed inside Andrea up to the knuckles and they both groan. She gives a forceful shove that makes Andrea yelp before moving her hips, trying to match her rhythm. No more teasing--she is going to fuck Andrea so good and so deep that by the time she's done with her, she'll be a moaning, quivering heap on the bed.

And so she sets out to please her lover. Her fingers pump in and out and curl inside her, stretching her enough for a third finger. Andrea is so wet that she slides inside easily, and Miranda feels only a slight pang of jealousy at how quickly and how profusely her young partner can produce juices. But then she remembers that one of Andrea's favorite aspects of her is her age and that she is attracted to her _because_ of who she is and not despite of it, and it makes up for everything.

And really, this is no time to think about herself while Andrea's pussy squeezes her fingers so deliciously. Actually, the squeezing isn't intentional. It's rythmic and irregular like she's about to--

Miranda doesn't notice that Andrea's fingers have left the pillow until they bump into hers and she realizes that she's zoned out too much to notice that they're now rubbing frantically at her clit.

Oh, no. No, no. This will not do.

When her fingers abruptly slide out and leave her hollow, Andrea cries out. And when Miranda pushes Andrea's own fingers away, she actually whimpers, "No. No."

"Not so fast," she says in a deceivingly sweet tone and pulls Andrea's hair again, not enough to actually hurt her, but enough to make her moan and arch her neck. She takes advantage of the new skin presented to her and licks a hot trail up to her chin. When she's mere centimeters from Andrea's mouth, she adds, "Only when I say."

But she doesn't return her fingers inside, much to Andrea's displeasure. She does let go of her hair, though, so her head can loll back onto the pillow.

Now her fingers rub slowly up and down her slit, and every time she touches her swollen and throbbing clit, Andrea jerks. But she knows she won't come, not without Miranda's permission.

She must be aching by now, desperate for release. Her breathing is fast and ending on quiet whines every time Miranda touches a sensitive spot. She should take mercy on her, but not just yet. She's having too much fun.

"Do you want to come?"

Andrea doesn't wait a second to reply, "Yea-yes."

"How badly do you want it?"

"So bad," she sobs.

She's half-delirious by now so Miranda decides it's not the time to correct her grammar (and she calls herself a writer), but she decides to punish her nonetheless. She slides a finger over her clit once before removing her fingers altogether. "That doesn't sound very convincing."

Andrea's hips are rocking frantically now, chasing her touch, and she chuckles evilly and catches the side of her ear between her teeth.

"Miranda..."

"Beg me," she growls, and returns her fingers to their rightful place, softly fluttering them over the sensitive, twitching flesh.

"Oh," Andrea cries and pushes down. "Please. Please let me come. Please! I wanna come so fucking bad."

"How close are you?" Miranda demands. She can feel Andrea's clit pulsating wildly beneath her fingers.

"So close! So fucking close. Please! Please, please, please--"

And then she's rubbing, hard and fast. There's nothing gentle or graceful about her fingers' movements and Andrea seizes and spasms uncontrollably. Her body arches away from Miranda and her lips are open wide, but no sound is coming out.

Miranda watches. It's exquisite.

She keeps rubbing Andrea through her orgasm, until her hand is trapped between two thighs and Andrea pants, "Enough. Enough."

Then she gives her time to recover, hugging her close and stroking her hair. And finally Andrea turns onto her back and she gets her first real look at her face. Their eyes meet and Andrea's are slightly bloodshot, which makes Miranda feel bad for waking her after all until--

"Morning," Andrea breathes out, her lips stretched in a dopey grin. She looks drugged with release.

Miranda smiles back and leans in to peck her lips. Andrea grabs the back of her head and pulls her down for a longer kiss.

When they part, her eyes catch the clock on the nightstand and she sighs. She's already wasted valuable time, but then she's the boss so who's going to reproach her for being late? Her assistants will probably be grateful for some extra Miranda-less time. And on second thought, this was definitely not a time wasted.

"I should go get ready for work." Andrea pouts and she kisses the pout before throwing back the covers. When she's out of the bed, she tucks Andrea back in and feels her heart soar with tenderness at Andrea's love-filled gaze. "You should go back to sleep."

"Use 'em and toss 'em," Andrea sighs, but her tone is playful enough that Miranda knows she doesn't really mean it.

Still, she replies, "More like giving you something to think about today," before entering her bathroom to start her morning. Today is going to be great, and when she sees Andrea at night, it will be even better.

\---

 _"I follow slowly the graceful contours of your hips,_  
_The curves of your shoulders, your neck, your upappeased breasts._  
_In your white voluptuousness my desire rests,_  
_Swooning, refusing itself the kisses of your lips."_

 _- **The Touch** , The Muse of the Violets: Poems_ by Renée Vivien

\---


End file.
